The Mafia Disorder
by Scorching Streaks of Paint
Summary: If a person feels long quantities of stress, their mind can lose itself and try to take control of the situation by any means necessary. They show similar behavior that Mafia bosses have, giving this disorder the title as the "Mafia Disorder". For humans, this disorder is fleeting and domesticated. However, it is very dangerous for nations to gain this disorder... ABANDONED
1. Turned Into Mafia Person

_The Mafia Disorder_

_By Insert Badass Name_

_"A smile will get you pretty far... but a smile and a gun will get you farther"_

_South Italy has a strong mafia. The nations found out a bit too late..._

* * *

Romano was having a horrible day.

First of all, Italy had decided to drag him off with Germany and himself to 'get better'. From what, he didn't know. He didn't think he needed to be cured of anything. The elder Italian was just taken away from his meal that consisted of tomatoes and pasta and was stuffed into a Ferrari with the German Bastard. He had tried to get out many, MANY times, but either the German Bastard or the door got in the way. He had no idea why Germany was even trying to keep him inside the car, but he could bet anyone a thousand Euros that it was because of his younger brother. Damn bastard and his strength... metaphorically speaking, of course.

When they were "half-way there", Romano felt uncomfortable. It was hot, sweaty, and cramped. Not to mention that the German Bastard was right next to him, and he smelled like a bunch of potatoes. So, like any other sane person, he jumped through the window. After Germany had to go retrieve his maimed body from a patch of rose bushes, the angry Italian was taped to the seat and had a bell tied onto one tuft of his curly hair to warn anyone if he was going to do it again.

"We're almost there, ve~!" his brother exclaimed excitedly as he drove at insane speeds. The signs said to go 55 miles per hour, but the young Italian decided that it would be easier to go at 112 miles per hour. After all, if they were stopped by a police car, he could just whip out his license and that would stop him or her from arresting them. Romano was used to the speed (mostly because he drove faster), but Germany wasn't looking so well. A bit green in the face, to be exact. This made the elder Italian smirk in triumph, but he had to gulp it down when he saw his brother "looking" in his direction. Sometimes, he swore that Italy **could **actually see him through his eyelids. Actually, that wouldn't surprise him; he could remember a time when they were in school and Italy had read a book aloud with his eyes closed.

Of course, Italy was driving while keeping his eyes closed and "looking" at Romano.

It wasn't a very smart thing to do.

With a loud 'BANG', the Ferrari crashed into a tree. "Whoops" his younger brother said as he crawled out of the very damaged car. Of course, the Italian looked undamaged and was smiling goofily at his two other friends. Germany held onto Romano as he clawed himself out of the broken vehicle, while Romano was screeching at him to let go of him. The German ignored the ex-nation as he clambered out and walked up to Italy with a mildly crushed picnic basket.

"Ve are here?" The German asked his friend. Italy smiled and nodded.

"Ve~ This is the place. Just tie Romano up over on that tree." The elder Italian stared at him shock before flinging himself into a cursing and squirming frenzy. Unfortunately for him, it didn't work as he was hauled to a tree and forcefully tied up. The rope scratched against skin and left bright red marks in it's wake.

"You bastards! Let me go!" he cried as he squirmed. He was sitting very close to the tree he was tied up to and could feel the bark and bugs begin to crumble into his hair. Romano's "Hate List" was a very long one, but bugs were one of his top three, right next to German bastards and annoying Spaniards (Hint, hint) . He definitely didn't want them in his hair which was neatly combed daily for at least an hour.

"Oi, if you're going to tie me up, can't you at least tie me up to something **clean**?" Italy shook his head as he took out the picnic cloth.

"Scusa fratello, ma dobiamo fare questo*." Romano glared at both of them. He had the sudden urge to rip both of their heads off. Usually, he had this urge, but now it was strong. **Very strong**. If he had his gun...

_No, it needs to be polished. Besides, they don't deserve the silver bullets that come out of your beautiful gu-_ wait, what?

Romano heard Italy shout something into his ear as he was hovering **right above his ear**. He felt lightheaded and heard ringing all around him. It became a bit difficult to concentrate on his annoying brother. While he was recovering from the shock, he screamed as well (which wasn't a good idea, in retrospect...).

"CHIGI! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING BASTARD?!" Italy smiled brightly. Germany kept his poker face on and glanced to the side. Romano wiggled a bit more before going limp. He glared at them some more.

"You weren't paying attention, so I decided that screaming in your ear might help ve~"

"Well, you almost made me go deaf bastardo..." growled the elder Italian. The younger Italian smiled apologetically and handed him a tomato sandwich. Romano raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ve~ eat this fratello!" Romano gave him a dead-pan stare. When he didn't take the sandwich, Italy's smile became less of a smile and more of a grimace. He forced the food into his brother's mouth and tried to make him swallow it. Romano spit it out and cursed up a storm while Italy whispered to Germany, glancing at the half-eaten food. It lay on the grass, all mushed up with a bit of ants crawling on it already.

"He won't eat it..." The German rolled his eyes.

"Don't take it too personally. I'll convince him to eat it." The stoic nation took the half-eaten sandwich and walked up to the angry Italian. When Romano saw the German with the piece of food, he clamped his mouth shut and glared at him intensely. Germany gave him a bored look before pinching the Italian's nose. Romano leered menacingly at him and Germany swore that he could see bloodlust reflect in his eyes, but then noticed that it was just unlimited hate, not something he saw in his troopers when they were fighting in World War Two.

Romano was slowly losing his breath and felt fatigue dropping onto him, but he refused to open his mouth. Black dots appeared in his line of sight and began to expand, consuming his vision like a bunch hungry sharks eating a school of fish. He felt his muscles begin to release their tension and become loose as they lost their main source of power.

The last thing he saw was darkness consume him.

* * *

Germany glanced at the unconscious ex-nation in annoyance. He had refused to finish the sandwich and this was the consequence of his actions. Now he was going to wake up with only half of his strength, but from what Italy had told him, half of his strength was more than enough to break free from his bonds. He had been skeptical at first, but when he saw the uncharacteristic seriousness in Italy's eyes, he quickly believed him.

"Ve... what are we going to do now?" his Italian friend asked him. Now, when Romano couldn't pay attention to them, he was missing his usual bounce and seemed to be a little somber. Germany thought for a few seconds before replying to the shorter nation.

"Ve could alvays call Japan and Spain, if not America. They could help us." Italy seemed to brighten up a bit.

"Si, but we can't call Spain; Romano might freak out if he saw him." The German nodded his head and pulled out his (mildly crushed) phone out of his pocket. It was a miracle that it was still intact. After typing in the phone number, he put it against his ear and waited for Japan to answer.

"Herro?" rang out a voice. It had a Japanese accent laced into the words, messing up the 'L's he said.

"Hallo Japan, this is Germany. Ve need your help vith something. May you come over to-" Germany glanced at the sign next to the crushed car,"- the Canarino Reservation in South Italy?"

"Why?" The German sighed.

"Please don't ask... just come over here."

"Okay, Germany-san. I'rr be there in ten seconds." _Click_. Germany called America next.

"Hey dude! What's up?" said an American voice. His voice was loud and obnoxious, but he could understand what he was saying.

"Hello America, this is Germany." He heard America groan.

"Don't tell me there's another meeting! We've already had five this week!"

"No, it's not another meeting. I need your help with something."

"Huh? Need help with what, dude?"

"I'll tell you if you come over here into the Canarino Reservation in South Italy." He knew America was pouting on the other end.

"I won't come until ya tell me what's going on!"

"Then I guess you aren't my 'hero'." His voice was filled with sarcasm, but 'The Hero' took it as literal.

"What?! I'll come over RIGHT NOW!" _Click_. Germany turned off his mobile phone and put it back in his pocket. He heard Italy talking to someone and saw that it was Japan. The Japanese man glanced at the German before nodding his hello.

"Herro Germany-san. Itary had just exprained what was going on. I wirr gladry help."

"Thank you Japan. America should be here soon." And with that, a giant jet landed onto the grassy terrain with a loud rumble. A man with wheat colored hair jumped out of the pilot's seat and ran over to them.

"Haha! The HERO is here! Where's the trouble?" Germany glared at the American while Italy greeted him happily. Japan nodded his head towards his friend and glanced at the forgotten Italian that was tied to a tree. America followed his gaze and saw Romano.

"Whoa dude! Why is that Italian dude tied up to a tree?!" Italy was about to respond, but Germany responded faster.

"Ve'll explain." And with that, Germany explained the situation to the American, making sure to leave out a few parts. When he had gotten weird looks from Japan and Italy, he gave them both a look that said "Just trust me".

None of them noticed the Italian waking up from his nap.

* * *

_'Ugh, my head hurts...'_ Romano complained as he woke up from his 'nap'. He groaned softly and shifted a bit, but immediately stopped when he felt the ropes surrounding him rub harshly against his skin. He was certain that he would get a rope burn if he stayed tied up any longer.

The ex-nation opened his eyes and blinked a few times. His eyes stung and his vision was blurry. Everything was green and blue, except for the black figures on the horizon. They were very tall and heading straight for him. Panic and fear surged through him and he struggled against his bonds, even though it hurt like Hell.

_Snap_, goes the first rope.

_Snap_, goes the second rope.

_Schnap_, goes the last rope.

Romano stood up quickly and snatched something from his right pocket. It felt cold and metallic and it was about the size of his hand. Without thinking, he lifted it up to his eyelevel and squeezed the object. It made an earsplitting shriek and one of the gray huddles that decorated the background hurtled down onto the tallest black figure. In mere seconds, it was swallowed by gray. Two of the other figures stopped and went back to help it, but the tiniest one still approached him. The small black figure stopped moving a few feet away from him and slowly held out something to him. Romano stared at it, suspicious.

_Trust him, trust_ _him_, whispered half of his mind.

_Don't! Shoot him, shoot him, _screamed the other half.

But that half was ignored by Romano as he cautiously took the object from the little thing in front of him. It felt like a pair of glasses, but the lenses were wider and thicker than they were supposed to be. He carefully unfolded the flaps and placed it on his nose. As soon as he put it on, every detail was defined.

Trees were in the background and the grass was a bright green. His little brother stood in front of him with his eyes wide open. Golden orbs glanced at him and then stared at his brother's gun in fear. It was directly pointed at his head. Romano relinquished his grip on the gun, but didn't let go. He could feel something inside him tell him to shoot the other Italian and be done with it.

_He doesn't deserve to live. He always needs to be taken care of by someone else. Shoot him and end the world's main problem..._

But Romano resisted the temptation to shoot him. It would look bad for him if he shot a defenseless _brat_\- I mean, child. Besides, he had reputation to consider! He only shot the strong people, the people who at least put up a challenge or threatened his pride. Feliciano wasn't one of those people and he was his brother for God's sake! No respectable person killed their own brother unless they weren't useful and/or betrayed them.

... Then again, Italy had betrayed him somewhat and generally wasn't useful.

Germany ran up to Italy's side and Romano aimed the gun at the German. The nation was baffled; the ex-nation wasn't cursing up a storm as usual. He was... silent. It was unnerving to a Russian degree. He wore a poker-face similar to Japan's and an aurora similar to Belarus'. His curl had drooped down a couple of centimeters and seemed to be more box-like instead of the usual curve.

Don't even get him started about the gun; he had seen a box come out of nowhere and land on Italy's head, but a gun appearing from a place where it had originally not been?

Wait, scratch that, Romano's gun made more sense. At least it actually came out of something that wasn't air... or maybe it did. He didn't know.

Romano backed up slowly as Japan finally arrived and added one more person to the duo. Romano backed up until his back was against the tree he had been previously tied to. The little voice in his head had gotten a bit stronger and he could feel it increase the temptation to kill them all.

_See? Now they're all threats! Italy was just distracting you! Shoot them, shoot them..._

The ex-nation shook his head and glanced at his surroundings behind his sunglasses. There were two cars, but one of them had crashed into a tree and the other had giant padlocks all over it (guess who owned that car...). Sure, it would take about a few minutes for him to unlock the whole thing, but he didn't have a few minutes. However, the jet nearby, he would be able to handle.

Without a second thought, Romano ran up to the jet. He heard muffled shouts coming from behind him, but he ignored them and started to climb up the hull of the jet. He propelled himself upward until he was at the Plexiglas that surrounded the pilot's seat. He threw it open and jumped inside the plane while someone tried to shoot him off. He frowned in disdain before closing the lid again and locking it. The bullets hit the glass, but they didn't break it.

Romano pressed some buttons here and there to turn on the engines and start the jet. A buzzing sound filled the air and everything vibrated. It was a bit soothing to the ex-nation, but he had work to do and he couldn't relax just yet. He grabbed the wheel and flew into the sky...

* * *

"DUDES! HE TOOK MY JET! NOT COOL!" America whined as he ran after his flying jet. Germany stared at it in shock. Italy had never done a pull-up, so how did Romano, the second laziest person on the planet, pull himself up onto the plane? Italy and Japan, however, were calling their allies and asking them for help.

World War Three was about to begin...

* * *

_Scusa fratello, ma dobiamo fare questo= Sorry brother, but we have to do this_

_Does anybody like this? No? _

_Blah..._

_If ya want me, I'll be working on my other fic that desperately needs updating. _

_Also, if anyone gives me at least one review, I'll drop everything that I'm doing and write the next chapter..._

_Toodles~!_

_I do not own Hetalia or anything similar..._


	2. They See me Rollin', They Hatein'

_The Mafia Disorder_

_By Insert Badass Name_

_"A smile will get you pretty far... but a smile and a gun will get you farther"_

* * *

Like a boss, Romano was steering a plane.

He swerved it left and right and made it do loopty-loops. He wasn't laughing, but he was smirking in triumph. He had gotten away from his enemies unscathed and now had a jet in the palm of his hand. All in all, that was very productive... but that left him with another big problem. He just stole from one of the most powerful countries in the world and the one that had the most connections. Not to mention that there were three other very important nations with a ton of allies.

Romano glared at the blue sky in front of him. His "good" mood dissipated immediately as he thought. He needed a team, a Mafia to throw them off course. He didn't want them to capture him (like his brother had surprisingly managed to do many times), so that was the most perfect thing to do. Yeah, it was the most obvious choice and they would probably see it from a mile away, but he would make it work. Somehow.

_Tick-tock, your time is running out! Tick-tock, if ya need me, just shout! _a voice cried out gleefully. The ex-nation frowned.

_Who are you?_ he asked. He heard it giggle. Now that he thought about it, it sounded like the voice that had talked to him earlier. This caused his frown to deepen.

_I'm your conscience, silly! _

_Well then, get out of my head._

_No-can-do~! I'm stuck with you forever! _

_Hmph. Fine. Shut up and let me do my__ thing._

After that, it was quiet for the entire ride, if you counted humming as being quiet. Romano gritted his teeth as he stared at the front of the jet. It was sleek and smooth, with a few dents here and there from the bullets that had been shot at him earlier. The sunset reflected against the metal, coloring it yellow and orange. He had to give that American idiota credit; he knew how to make a sturdy plane. He was very close to his destination, he just needed to get off the jet without receiving any type of attention.

Romano pressed the auto-pilot button and let go of the wheel. It still worked and flew smoothly through the air. Nodding his head in satisfaction, he stood up and went to the back of the jet. He grabbed a white back-pack and strapped it onto his back. The ex-nation pushed up his sunglasses and pressed the eject button next to the door. It popped off of the plane and left an opening just big enough for him.

Without looking back, Romano jumped out of the jet and was careening towards the earth...

* * *

"Well, I'm here now you git! Did you expect me to have Romano with me **already**?!"

The American gave him a dead-pan stare. The Englishman glared at him in fury while his hands curled into fists.

"WANKER!" England tried to punch him in the face, but America caught his fist before it could land on him. England leered at the American in annoyance before ripping his fist out of America's hand. Germany rolled his eyes and intervened before a cursing ensued. The two ex-brothers glared at each other before focusing on the German in front of them. He seemed to be a bit pissed off, but other than that, he seemed fine.

"Ve don't have time for this! That Italian could be anyvhere right nov! England, have you seen a jet fly by you at any time during your flight?"

"No! How many times do I have to tell you lot?! I was in the middle row of the plane. I couldn't see out of the windows because of two bloody whales!" America laughed at him.

"Dude, whales can't be in planes! They are **way** too heavy!" England face palmed.

"I meant two fat women, you dolt."

"Oh..." Germany nodded and turned to Italy.

"Do you have any idea vhere your bruder might be?" Italy's face scrunched up in thought.

"Well, maybe he went to go get more tomatoes? ~ve."

The rest of them sighed. It was going to be a long day...

* * *

_This was very short. Very, VERY short. Don't worry; It'll live._

**_Romano's Team:_**

_-Romano_

_-Weird voice in Romano's head_

**_Italy's Team:_**

_-Italy_

_-Germany_

_-Japan_

_-America_

_-England_

_Please review..._

_I do not own Hetalia_


	3. The Rust and the Left-Behind Dust

_The Mafia Disorder_

_By Insert Badass Name_

_"A smile will get you pretty far... but a smile and a gun will get you farther"_

* * *

Romano trekked up the steep hill while mumbling profanities under his breath. The tree branches extended downwards as if they were trying to receive a high-five from him, but in reality, were only trying to piss the Italian off. The said Italian had kept the backpack after he had deployed the parachute within it. Cleansing it of the giant airbag was no easy task, but he had managed to do it in the end. It was currently filled with broken beer bottles and enough sticks to fill up Rhode Island. His face was creased into a permanent scowl as he continued to trip over broken branches.

"Stupid-"

_Trip_

"F-ing-"

_Trip_

"Countries-"

_Trip_

He was definitely not a country-boy. That is all that needs to be said.  
_'We're almost there_,' whispered his conscience as it giggled silently. The Italian rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. He pushed a branch away from his face before he entered a large clearing.

Unlike the rest of the reservation, the clearing was partially flat in appearance. There weren't any drooping branches hanging in the middle of it either; everything seemed to be uptight and clean, something Romano wanted at the moment.

_'So, what do you think?'_ Romano shrugged as he fought against the will to smirk again. Everything was going in his favor... all he needed was a trump card strong enough to toss the other countries out of the way. Then, he would be immortal...

_'Um, excuse me? "Immortal"? Technically, you're **already** immortal, so being double immortalized would be over-kill, don't you think?'_

'It was just a metaphor.'

_'Yeah, keep on telling that to yourself and your stupidity. One day, you actually might lose enough brain cells to actually believe that!'_

'Shut up.'

_'Kay.'_

Romano rolled his eyes again and walked toward the center of the clearing. But, before he could make it, he tripped on something fragile. He heard it squish easily under his weight as he came tumbling down onto the ground, tossing off his sunglasses in the process. The Italian cursed as his world became blurred again. He stretched his hands out and searched for the glasses along the ground. Romano eventually found it and gripped in his palm to make sure it was really his glasses. Unfortunetly, he gripped it a little too hard and made the left lense crack. Now, his world was half-blurred and half-clear.

Peachy.

Just F-ing peachy.

Romano heard the voice giggling in the background as he thought of... disturbing thoughts. He walked up to the thing that had tripped him and kicked it. Leaves flew everywhere as it revealed the cause of his trouble; a rusty, broken bike made for children. The corner of his mouth twitched. How had he missed it? Was it made in that... invisible country? You know, the one that no one could remember the name of... Canda? Candy? Canado? ... Oh yeah; Canada. That train of thought caused the voice to giggle again.

'What did I say? Shut up!'

_'Pfft, party-pooper..._' The corner of his mouth twitched again. He really hated his conscience...

Romano bent down and picked up the rusty thing. He contemplated its pros and cons before shrugging and tossing it over his shoulders. It fell and landed with a reverberating 'clang'. The ex-nation gripped onto one of the straps of his backpack and walked past the drooping trees. He thought he saw a flash of yellow (OMG COLOR!) in the brush as he passed by, but he shrugged it off. He had some supplies, now he just needed to go to civilization...

* * *

"Dudes! I have an awesome idea!" America yelled as he jumped up and down. England gave him an unreadable expression.

"It doesn't happen to involve you, does it?" America laughed at his idiocy.

"Of COURSE it does! Why wouldn't anything not involve the Hero?!" England muttered something under his breath.

"Vell, do not keep us waiting. Tell us your plan," Germany said. America smirks.

"All of my jets have trackers in them! If I just had my tracker-tracker thingy, I could find the jet and Romano inside him!" England's eyes widened a fraction before giving him a patronizing look.

"'Him?' You give your planes_ genders_?" America's eyes widened.

"You _don't_?" After a few minutes of them bickering about the difference between girl and boy planes, Germany intervened.

"Vill you all just shut up?! America, go find your blasted tracker and England, stay here and let Italy inform you of the situation! **NOV**!" America chuckled before running off to get his tracker while England approached Italy and Japan. Germany sighed and decided to make a few phone calls to check how things were going.

"Hey, Italy, Japan! Can you tell me what the Hell is going on?" Japan glanced at him. Italy smiled at him.

"Of course ~ve! What do you want to know?"

"Can you tell me why your brother went all crazy and how he went all crazy?" Italy's smile dulled a bit before returning to its usual brightness.

"Sure! My brother has the Mafia Disorder!" England raised an eyebrow.

"What's that?"

"It's... supposed to be a life-long mental disorder. I honestly don't why the doctors couldn't have put him on some meds, though! ... it would have been easier that way..."

"When was the first time he ever got it?" Italy hesitated.

"Well..."

* * *

_Italy walked up the stairs to his brother's room. He wasn't usually so quiet during this hour... it was lunch time, after all. Romano should have been demanding some food from his brother or even Spain, not cramped up in his room without making a sound. The oblivious Italian bounded up the stairs until he reached the solid oak door. It was so quiet that he could almost hear the quiet breaths he took. _

_The nation paused. What if his brother was asleep and he disturbed him with his knocking? He didn't want to be screamed at!_

'But, he never sleeps at this hour,' _he thought,_' He might be sick!' _Italy hesitated before lightly knocking on the door. No one responded, not even a shuffle of a bed's covers was heard. This made him become anxious, so he opened the door a crack. When he stuck his head inside, he saw a barrel of a gun directly in front of him. His brother gripped onto it like it was something vital to have. His iris' was a deep crimson that looked like they couldn't see. His face was emotionless and threatening at the same time, something that only two other nations had ever managed to do._

_"Who are you?" He asked. The ex-nation's voice was cold and hostile. Italy trembled a bit before meekly replying._

_"It's-a me fratello. Don't you recognize me?" Romano squinted at him._

_"No... all I see is gray..." _

* * *

_Okay, I need to tell you guys three things:_

_1) I don't own Hetalia_

_2) Review and I'll try to update sooner (... I still need to update TWO THINGS though... keep that in mind...)_

_3) I am asking for an editor and advisor. Now, who would like to be that thing? *Crickets chirping* Wow guys, I really feel the love... first person gets dibs! _

_Pwease? Do it for Romano! _

_Have a great day~!_


	4. Memories and Muggings

_The Mafia Disorder_

_By Insert Badass Name_

_Edited by Cynthia-Chan1449_

_"A smile will get you far... but a smile and a gun will get you farther"_

* * *

"It's-a me fratello. Don't you recognize me?" Romano squinted at him.

"No... all I see is gray..."

* * *

_Italy opened his eyes in surprise. His brother couldn't see him? How is that possible? No, it couldn't be possible._

_"Heh, fratello, that joke wasn't really funny! Please put the pistolla down now!" Romano frowned in disdain and raised the gun a little bit more toward the center of Feliciano's head. Italy trembled a bit as he stared into his brother's soulless eyes. They were just so... dark. Like they had seen countless wars and battles and had survived every time, but at the cost of seeing his comrades fall._

_"Fratello please!" he begged. Romano shot him a piercing glare, but he slumped his shoulders and aimed the gun lower. His eyes seem to have softened a fraction._

_"Okay, if you don't do what I say, I will shoot you in the kneecap. Understood?" The Italian nodded his head rapidly._

_"Good. Now find me some sunglasses." Italy ran as fast as he could toward his room and found a pair of sunglasses in a drawer. He ran back and handed it to Romano who grinned his thanks. The ex-nation put it on his nose and it hid his crimson irises. He didn't say another word before walking out of the room and out of the house..._

* * *

"- and the next day, the news said that he had been terrorizing Rome's citizens. I had to track him down and knock him out before he could go back to normal. He looked so s-scary ve," Italy muttered," He wasn't my fratello then. He isn't right now..." England scrunched up his face in thought.

"What caused him to act like this?" the Englishman asked. Italy sniffed a few times before answering his question.

"The d-doctors said that it was caused by stress. No one knows why he was so stressed, but he was. On this certain day on this certain month, he turns into this- this monster that only a few can handle..."

'Like clockwork,' England thought,' Its like he is a clock striking 12.'

"Well, how have you been containing him so far?" The Italian started to sob.

"I drug him like a rampaging bull L-like he isn't my brother at all! Then h-he starts taunting me like you used to do and it hurts and I want him to be normal so I try to limit his work but it isn't working and he yells at me and it hurts my feelings and-" sobs wracked his body as he hugged himself. Japan gave him a fleeting glance.

"Itary-san, don't be sad about this. We wirr find a way to h*** your brother." Italy nodded before smiling weakly.

"Look, Italy, we will help you and your brother. Now, if only that bloody wanker would get his a** over here..." And right at that moment, America popped out of nowhere with a huge grin on his face.

"Ha ha! The Hero is here with his awesome tracker!" The Englishman rolled his eyes while America waved an expensive-looking gadget around.

"Now, its time to find my epic jet!" He turned on the tracker and a bright red dot stood on the top left corner of the screen, pulsing slowly. His grin broadened and he pointed in the direction it was at. Germany glanced at the oblivious nation as he pointed toward the sky, frozen in that pose. The German sighed and closed his cell phone with a sharp snap. They were all going to find the plane now with a little sobbing Italian...

Peachy.

Just F-ing peachy.

* * *

Romano trudged through the blurry forest, using the trees as an indicator of where he was going. He muttered profanities under his breath while the braches hit him across the face. The backpack was hanging loosely from his right shoulder and some of the things in it spilled out, but he didn't care that much, since he was busy not busting his head open. He was heading toward civilization, even though he was half-blind and fairly suspicious-looking. I mean, a ruffled stranger with a backpack filled with sticks and broken sunglasses? The population would avoid him like he had caught the plague!

_'Psst, hey buddy!'_

'Oh f***. The beast returned.'

_'That's not nice!'_

'I'm not nice and frankly, neither are you!'

_'That is an opinion darling~'_

'Okay, what the Hell do you want?'

_'Finally admitting that I'm right, are we?'_

'Just f*** tell me!'

_'Kay. You need money. Mug a man.'_

'WHAT?'

_'Too straightforward?'_

_'...Just steal some euros and get this over with.'_

'... Fine. But only because I like money.'

_'Whatever floats your boat~'_

Romano growled and crashed into a bush. He spit out a holly leaf and peered upward. He saw a man at the gate of Rome.

_'Well, isn't that convenient? We were just talking about mugging a man, and a man is right there! Now, be a good little boy and do your tricks~!'_ Romano rolled his eyes before standing up and walking to the man. The person looked at him with a confused expression on his face.

"Um... hello?" Romano hissed before he punched the guy square in the jaw. The man squawked in surprise before trying to run away, but the ex-nation grabbed onto one of his shoulders and pulled him back. He punched the guy in the face again, making a gush of warm blood come out of his nose. Romano bashed the guy's head against the ground and felt the man go limp in his arms.

Romano grimaced and held his head for a second. A headache bloomed in his head, making him cringe in pain. It was so spontaneous...

The Italian shook his head before grabbing some euros out of the man's wallet and he walked into the city...

And fell down with a _thud_...

* * *

_Ha ha... a cliffhanger..._

_Don't you just **love** these?_

_I guess... review? Write a death note? Write a Death Note review? :D_

_Heh... NO_

_I do not own Hetalia~ :)_


	5. The Alliance

_The Mafia Disorder_

_By Insert Badass Name_

_Edited by Cynthia-Chan1449_

_"A smile will get you pretty far... but a smile and a gun will get you farther"_

* * *

Romano woke up startled. Everything he saw around him was distorted and shaking, as if the universe was unraveling at the seams. He was leaning against a hard surface that was cold as ice. It numbed his arms and chest, making him feel the uncomfortable pins and needles. He groaned in pain as he felt the headache return full force. The ex-nation slowly lifted his head off of the surface and blinked rapidly. It cleared his vision (as much as it could; his sunglasses were still broken) and made the world stop shaking. His sunglasses were still perched on his nose, which was a good thing, even though it was missing one of it's lenses. What was even worse was that the other one was cracked right down the middle. Romano frowned at that fact and touched it gingerly. The crack widened, distorting his vision even more. It felt like he was staring through a very thin piece of black paper. The ex-nation stopped messing around with it and took in his surroundings.

The ex-nation was inside a noisy bar. He heard people laugh and sing to the music while the drunks went out back. There was a TV in the corner of the bar, showing the recent terrorist attacks in multiple countries. Lights flashed everywhere and almost blinded him from seeing the most important details in the whole place; the people next to him. On his left, there was a drunk man sleeping on the counter. On the right, a middle-aged man sat beside him wearing dark shades and a business suit. The man was smirking as he sipped his beer.

The man tilted his head and nodded to him.

"Ciao," he greeted in a thick Italian accent," My name is-" The man paused dramatically"-Gladio. I'm the one who brought you off of the street." Gladio smiled wryly. Romano narrowed his eyes. The sounds of the bar filled in the silence for a few seconds before Gladio's smile widened.

"You know, it is impolite to not introduce yourself after someone introduces themselves."

"It's also impolite to take a person to a bar without their permission!" Romano shot back. The man chuckled a bit before taking another sip of beer.

"Ah, but you never protested against the idea~"

"I never agreed to it either, d***. I was asleep." Gladio's smile grew inhumanely big.

"So a bit of the original Lovino exists, eh?" Romano's eyes widened before he growled and grasped the man's crimson tie and pulled him toward his face. Even though his vision was blurry, he could see that Gladio's eyes were blood red. Just like his. Romano almost let go in surprise. Almost.

"Do I know you?" he hissed. I would like to say that Gladio's grin grew wider, but then he would be a Cheshire cat, something that he definitely was not.

"Si. I was your grandfather's... friend, you might say. A very close friend." Romano looked at him in disgust, getting the hint. The ex-nation heard him giggle.

_'He sounds like a creepy stalker, don't you agree Lovi?~_' Romano resisted the temptation to groan. The piece of c*** was here. Again. He was between an annoyance and a creeper. As in, he had a voice that wouldn't leave him alone and a creeper who claimed that he was his grandfather's best friend.

_'It takes a creepy stalker to know a creepy stalker,'_ the voice remarked before bursting into a fit of laughter. It was quickly silenced when it "saw" Gladio stand up. He towered above the ex-nation by a foot. His face was lax and calm.

"Here, sit. We have a lot to talk about." Romano sat down onto his chair again. He hadn't realized that he had leaped out of his seat while he was "interrogating" the man. Romano kept his face blank as he stared at Gladio, expecting an explanation. The man drank his beer for a few seconds before putting it down again. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stared at Romano.

"First of all, your grandfather says 'Ciao'. Second of all, I know that something is wrong with you." Gladio gave him a pointed look before continuing.

"I saw you steal from that man. The way that you stole from him told me that you had The Disease. Your eyes tell me a lot, too. Do you what crimson eyes stand for?" he asked.

"Nope. Don't know a thing."

"Red eyes stand for blood thirst in our little fantasy, so our body tries to copy the image. It... sort of works, I guess. Do you know how The Disease is made?"

"No."

"... well, no one does. They say that The Disease is caused by extreme stress and desperation, but that's just a theory. A very strong theory, but its still a theory. They said that the massive amount of adrenaline caused by the stress cracks a few of the fragile veins in your iris', making your eyes appear to be red," Gladio leaned forward and pointed to his eye," That doesn't explain why the whites of our eyes aren't red, though. But it's the BEST theory around." Romano scooted away from the man and scowled at him.

"Who is 'They'?"

"Oh, the scientists who kept me in a cage like a mouse and tested on me for years and years even though it is against the law, but they still did it even though I was screaming in pain and begging them to stop." Suddenly, a deadly aura surrounded Gladio and made everyone in the bar freeze and stare at him. The ex-nation gripped the edge of his seat and silently prayed that he would stop doing that because the staring was... really uncomfortable, to say in the least.

Gladio kept on staring forward in an unnerving manner before Romano coughed and gained the man's attention once more.

"Oh, did I zone out again? Really sorry, I am. Anyway, I want to request something from you..." The man trailed off.

"And that is...?"

"I want to team up with you. You know, since we're similar and have similar goals... such as getting those meddling nations off of your tail..."

"How do you know what my goals are?" Romano questioned. Romano felt himself becoming tired once more. The lights began to sway and his vision began to swim into the darkness. But, before he could black out Gladio spoke to him.

"Because the ones with The Disease can feel the another's pain, mi amico."

* * *

_Sorry for the wait. My internet crashed and I had to wait for two months to post this._

_I do not own Hetalia_


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